Barbershop of Horrors
by Martin Baker
Summary: When God gets bored, two universes will never be the same. Joined by a small hallway, the florist shop on Skid Row and the barbershop on Fleetstreet serve as a porthole from one time to another. Will the two worlds end up eating each other alive?
1. Prologue

God was having a relatively good day. He sighed, adjusting his billowing blue robes about himself before settling down in his overstuffed chair. This was gonna be fun. He loved this particular room better than all the others in his magnificent palace. This, of course, was known to his wife Suzy and all their close friends as "THE CHAMBER OF ANGST!!" The floor and walls were a deep and merky black while the ceiling was carved out of a single giant clamb shell. It shone so white against the black that the contrast was startling, and when God spoke, the cup-like shell caused the sound of his booming voice to echo all across the earth.

He stared into his coffee cup and frowned intently. There was nothing good on. In a place called New York, a geeky young man named Seymour had just received a carnivorous plant. Oh sure, the little fella was small now, but given time and a few drops of blood, the plant, called Audrey Two after the girl Seymour was sweet on, would become a holy nightmare. It would learn to speak and soon, demand a reluctant Seymour to pay the price for his new found fame. Blood.

Earlier, -- much earlier in a place called London, a man named benjamen was peeved off because a perverted judge had sent him away to Australia for a crime he didn't commit. Oh sure, the good old land down under wasn't such a bad vacation spot now, but back then, or now depending when God decided to be, the place was used as a penal colony. England sent all their vilest criminals there to serve their life sentences, confident that they could never return to their home land. But Benjamen had returned. Not only had Benjamen returned, but his feet had lead him to his old stomping grounds. Namely, a pie shop where he, his wife and daughter had lived before the powerful Judge Terpin had ripped apart their happy home. Benjamen vowed to avenge the wrongs done him, and God knew he would, … but for a price. Blood.

God sighed, twirling his white bierd thoughtfully between his fingers. By its self, each sinario was boring, but what if, just what if he could mix the two? Then, even he wouldn't know what would befall these two men in their all two similar tragedies. God laughed out loud, and, taking a breath, he began to speak.

"On the twenty-third day of the month of September  
in an early year of a decade not too long before our own,  
the human race suddenly encountered two deadly  
threats to its very existence.  
And these terrifying enemies surfaced,  
as such enemies often do,  
in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places."


	2. Stop That Plant!

Author's Note"

Okay, okay! I don't own Little Shop of Horrors. I also don't own Sweeney Todd. If I did, Mrs. Lovett would get her house by the sea and Audrey Two would become the greatest rock and role singer of all time. Ah well. For those religious among you, don't take offence. God may like having fun with his creatures in this story, but he's not a total monster. This you will see. A heartfelt thank you goes to S. Snowflake, my first ever reviewer for this story. It means so much. Feed me reviews, and this fic will grow big and strong. Now, on to the story.

Chapter Two

"Alms? Alms for a desperate woman?"

Mr. Mushnik cringed. That woman had been in front of his shop for two weeks now, begging the passers by in her strange British accent for any money they might offer her. Her clothes were caked with grime, and her blonde hair hung in matted strings down her back and over her shoulders. Her teeth, whenever she smiled, were crooked at best. Mushnik could see the red places where teeth had long since fallen away. The sockets looked infected, and, the old man wondered at the pain such infections might cause.

"How'd ya like a little muff, dear? We could go jig jig. A little bounce around the bush?" She swayed, nearly toppling sideways.

"I'll pass," he said flatly. 'Young woman, maybe you should get a job. One with a good dental plan."

"Got one for me?" she asked. He shook his head, backing away into the shop.

"Good mornin' Mr. Mushnik," Audrey greeted. She was fussing with a bunch of half-wilted dazies.

"Mornin' Mr. Mushnik," Seymour echoed. In his hands, he held the potted plant. Concern marred the boy's face as he diligently stroked the thing's mouth-like opening and misted the roundish leaves with a squeeze bottle.

"We had two customers today," Audrey told him brightly. "Both wanted dazies."

"Good, good." Mushnik nodded absently watching the boy with his vegitable. What would happen if the thing couldn't be helped? Oh sure, there were customers now, but when the plant vanished from the window, the people would stop coming. He would be ruined, finished, caput.

The little bell above the door tinkled merrily. "Alms? Alms for a desperate woman what's got wandering whits?" The old hag had somehow shuffled into the shop without his seeing. "hey!" she went on. "What a funny baby you've got there. 'E's all round 'n greeny."

"It's a plant," Audrey explained, placing a few coins in the woman's outstretched hand.

'Thank ya miss." She shoved the coins deep into the pocket of her ragged dress. "Thank you. But that's no plant. Plants ain't got fingers 'n the like. That's a baby, all right."

She walked toward the vegitable, stopping only inches from a very confused Seymour. He jumped, and the begger woman plucked the potted plant from his slackening grip.

"Hey wait! That's mine!" Seymour protested, but she was running now, penting as fast as she could into the back of the shop.

"STOP THAT PLANT!!" Mushnik bellowed.

His two employees darted after the fleeing woman. "Where are you going?" Audrey asked, her already high voice now an octive higher.

"Home," she answered. "back same way I came. Here. Through this hallway."

The hallway was narrow, the floor and ceiling of which glowed with an eery perple light. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all transparent, and if one looked into any surface, he would see the sky stretched in all directions. They gasped, backing hurriedly away from the opening that had not stood just one day before.

"What are you waiting for?" Mushnik asked, increduless. "STOP THAT PLANT!!"

"Oh no," Audrey whispered. "Mr. Mushnik, that's not natural."

"Not normal either," Seymour added not too helpfully.

"What do I pay you for?" He sighed, moving his slow feet as fast as they would toward the porthole. He didn't know what awaited beyond that glistening tube of transparency, but he knew one thing. When opertunity was in his grasp, he would clench it in his fist until not a vestage of living blood coursed through it. With a deep breath and a fervent prayer to his maker, Mr. Mushnik placed his worries aside, and, with a hesitant heart, he stepped through the porthole.


	3. The Customer

Author's Note:

I'm sorry about the delay. I have two kids, and my littlest one is sick. That keeps me pretty busy. A thank you as usual goes out to my reviewers.

GoldenPhoenix 12, I'm glad you like it. If you think it's weird now, just wait till you see some of the pairings I've got in mind. Suddenly Sweeney has a ring to it, don't you think?

Star's Snowflake, thanks for reviewing again. Unfortunately, I am an endless font of spelling errors. Lol I don't really have time to do this, so to save time, I shoot out these entirely too short chapters without the conventionalities of spell checking. Here's hoping I can keep them all in character with the gang from Fleet Street coming in and changing everything.

Now, on to the chapter.

Chapter Three

CRASH!! The rollingpin came down with a satisfying crunch. looked with satisfaction at the pile of crushed insects on her cutting board. The place was crawling with them. A single red curl flopped down over her eyes, and she wiped it back to join the others with a flower-covered hand. It didn't matter. Certainly she didn't have anyone to impress. Oh no. As a matter of fact, she hadn't seen a customer for weeks. She sighed, hoisting another rack of pies into the oven while another was placed out to cool and harden in the stale air of the all but forgotten pie shop on Fleet Street.

"Excuse me." She jumped, spinning with her rollingpin to face the voice in the dim light. It was a short, portly man in his late fifties to early sixties. He stepped back. she lowered the weapon, grinning sheepishly.

"Wait! What's your rush?" she demanded. "What's your hurry." She nearly pushed him on to one of the little stools at one of the not quite clean tables. "I've a minute. Can't ya sit." The man made a move to rise. "Sit! Sit ya down! Sit! Have ya come in for a pie, sir?"

He shook his head. "Ur, uh, I'm afraid not. I have a florist shop on Skid row. You may have heard of it."

"Please forgive me if me head's a little vague." She'd never heard of this Skid Row, let alone his ruddy old flower shop. Surely, this strange little fellow hadn't come here to sell her flowers! Or, had he? A humorless little laugh escaped her, building and bubbling forth like some toxic fount of insanity. She tried to imagine a cheerful bunch of daisies sitting in the midst of all the filth around her. This only made her laugh harder until she was clutching at her sides to keep it from tearing her apart. She fell, landing on his lap gracelessly as she laughed.

He shrugged, patting her awkwardly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I should leave."

She heard him, but only distantly. At last, the man stood, holding her in his arms like he might a small child. She wondered if he had any children, and then the tears came. She imagined him, some little girl's fortress, some little boy's hero. Mrs. Lovett had never had a child. Her dear Albert, God rest his soul, had been imputent. No children, no friends, no customers… Could life get any worse? And now this man was carrying her down a brightly lit hallway. She didn't have a brightly lit hallway anywhere in her shop, so where was he taking her.

"You can stay here for the night," he said, placing her on something soft and just a little bit lumpy. A bed, but not hers. "I'll start you a bath. You can eat something and get some rest."

And he was gone. She wondered who this man could be and why he was so kind to her. Was she so paathetically mad that even strangers were forced to pity her? She thought of one more pitiable than herself, and her face clouded with distaste. Lucy, that silly little blonde had poisoned herself, losing forever the sharpness of mind she once was famous for. A girl entered. She could tell by the soft footsteps and the scent of roses.

"I'm Audrey," the young thing said timidly. "Mr. Mushnik said you might need some help."

So that was his name. "No thank ya, deary. I've gotta get goin'." She rose, tripping over herself as she stood.

"Oh, Mr. Mushnik told me to insist." The girl reached out a steadying hand. The rist, Mrs. Lovett noticed with concern, had a vivid ring of bruises. The other rist bore the same marks, and she wondered what could do such a thing.


End file.
